Just Rewards
Page 42
“Aye, Master Edward,” Ernie shouted back, glancing at him. He and the other stable lad took the reins of the three horses and led them across the yard in the direction of the stables and the sheltered stalls where the tack room was also located.
Once Edward and his brothers entered the mud room, they felt the warmth of the house surrounding them. Shedding their black-and-white checked caps and thick woolen Inverness capes and hanging them up, they scraped their riding boots free of dirt. A moment later, they all went down the corridor at the back of the house, heading toward the Long Hall at its center.
“I shall ask Cook to make us a small snack and hot tea,” Edward informed them, an arm on each of their shoulders. “Perhaps she’ll be able to rustle up some of those delicious Cornish pasties of hers.”
“Oooh, I hope so,” George exclaimed, added, “And sausage rolls as well. I’m very hungry.”
“And what about you?” Edward asked, glancing down at Richard. “Aren’t you ravenous?”
“I will enjoy the hot tea,” Richard answered, smiling up at his brother. “But I’m not really very hungry, Ned.”
“We’ll see about that when you smell some of Cook’s tidbits. You know how they make your mouth water,” Edward said and shepherded his brothers into the Morning Room.
The boys raced over to the huge fire roaring in the grate, stood warming their hands, glad at last to be thawing out. After doing exactly the same thing, Edward swung around and went back to the door, explaining, “I’m going to have a word with Cook. I’ll be back in a few minutes.” Closing the door behind him, he left them to their own devices. Edward hoped George wouldn’t tease Richard; he so often did. He was a bit of a bully, and Richard had not yet learned how to go into verbal combat.
Mrs. Latham, the cook at Ravenscar, glanced up expectantly when the door to her kitchen opened. Instantly her mouth broke into laughter. “Why, good mornin’, Master Edward!” Her surprise and pleasure were most evident.
“Hello, Mrs. Latham,” he responded in his usual polite manner, giving her one of his most beguiling smiles. “I’ve come to beg a small favor. I know how busy you are on Tuesdays, but would it be possible for you to make a large pot of tea and something to eat for us? The boys are famished after their ride on the cliffs.”
“By gum, I bet they are!” She wiped her big, capable hands on a tea towel and strode across to the long oak table standing in the middle of the huge kitchen. “I’ve just been baking a few things—” She broke off, waved a hand in front of her morning’s work and added, “Pork pies, fishcakes, Cornish pasties, sausage rolls and savory tarts. Take a look, and take your pick, Master Edward.”
“How splendid,” he said, grinning at her. “A veritable feast, Cook. But then you’re the best in the world, no one has your remarkable skill in the kitchen, no one.”
“Oh, get along with yer, sir. It’s a real flatterer yer are.” This was said with a hint of pride at his compliment. Straightening her back, she added, “I knows yer all like the Cornish pasties, and Master George is ever so fond of my sausage rolls. I’ll get a tray ready for yer, sir, and send young Polly with it in a tick, once I’ve made the pot of tea. Does that suit, Master Edward?”
“It does indeed, Cook, and I can’t wait to sample some of this fare, it smells delicious. Thank you so much, I do appreciate it.” Once more he gave her the benefit of his warm smile and inclined his head.
“My pleasure,” she called after him, watching him walk over to the door.
Swinging his head, he grinned at her, waved and was gone.
Mrs. Latham stared at the door for a moment, her eyes filled with admiration for him. Edward Deravenel was blessed with the most pleasant nature as well as those staggering good looks. She couldn’t help wondering how many hearts he would break in his lifetime. Scores, no doubt. At eighteen he already had women falling at his feet. Spoil him, that they will, she thought, clucking to herself, turning to the ovens. Aye, they’ll all spoil him rotten, give him whatever he wants, and that’s not always a good thing for a man. No, it’s not. I’ve seen many a toff like him ruined by women, more’s the pity.
She swung around as the door opened again and muttered, “There yer are, young Polly. I was just wondering where yer’d got to—” Cook broke off and clucked again. “Bump in ter Master Edward, did yer, lass?”
The parlor maid nodded and blushed. “He’s ever so nice ter me, Cook.”
Mrs. Latham shook her head and sighed, but made no further reference to Edward. Instead she continued, “Set a large tray, please, Polly. I’m preparing a mornin’ snack for Master Edward and his brothers. When it’s ready, yer can take it ter the Morning Room.”
“Yes, Cook.”
After crossing the Long Hall, Edward made his way back to the Morning Room where he had left his brothers. He was lost in thought, contemplating his return to university. Today was Tuesday, January the fifth; in two days he would travel to London and go up to Oxford that weekend. He was looking forward to returning and especially pleased that he would be reunited with his best friend and boon companion of many years, Will Hasling, who was also an undergraduate.
His attention suddenly focused on the end of the corridor. He had just caught a fleeting glimpse of a dark skirt and jacket, a froth of white at the neck, a well-coiffed blonde head. And then there had been the click of a door closing.
He hurried forward, passing the Morning Room, not stopping until he reached the last room at the end of the corridor. Pausing at the door which had just closed, he listened intently. There were no voices, only the sound of someone moving around, the rustle of papers. Tapping lightly on the door, he did not wait to be summoned inside. He simply walked in.
The woman in the room stared at him, obviously startled.
Edward closed the door, leaned against it. “Hello, Alice.”
The woman took a deep breath, then exhaled. After a moment she inclined her head, stared at him, but said not one word.
Stepping forward he took hold of her arm just as she started to move around the desk, wanting to put it between them.
Holding her arm, pulling her closer, he leaned forward and murmured, “Alice, my dear, you didn’t come to see me last night. I was devastated …”
“Please,” she whispered, “let go of me. Your mother might walk in at any moment. Please, Master Edward.”
“Not Master Edward. Surely you mean Ned … that’s what you whispered to me in the dark last week.”
She looked up into the handsome face, was momentarily blinded by the vivid blue eyes, and closed her own.
Edward was instantly alarmed. “What is it, Alice?” he asked in concern. “Are you ill?”
She opened her eyes, shook her head. “No, no, I am not ill. But I can’t see you anymore. I’m afraid of … what might happen to me if we were to continue our … intimacy.”
“Oh, Alice, darling, don’t be frightened—”
“And then there’s your mother to consider,” she cut in peremptorily, her eyes darting to the door. “She would be furious if she found out about our liaison. You know she would dismiss me at once. And I do need this position …” Her voice trailed off, and she swallowed hard.
Looking down into her pretty face, Edward saw the tears glistening in her hazel eyes, and he now noticed the fear and anxiety gripping her. He nodded. “Yes, I’m afraid you are correct, Alice.” He studied her for a moment. If she had been from the working class, or even a woman of his own class, he would have pressed his suit, certain that there would be no serious repercussions. But Alice Morgan was from the middle class, and also very vulnerable, and because of that he knew he must show consideration to her. She was the widow of a local doctor with a small child to support, and she did indeed need this position as his mother’s secretary. And so because he was a compassionate young man and had a kind heart, he let go of her arm and stepped back.
A rueful smile touched his lips and he let out a small sigh. “I won’t trouble you any further, Alice,” he said in a very
low voice. “You are perfectly right, everything you have said is true. And I don’t wish to be a nuisance to you or cause you any difficulties.”
Leaning forward, she touched his cheek with one finger, and then she swiftly edged around the end of the desk, where she stood looking at him.
“Thank you,” she said in a voice as low as his had been. “Thank you for being such a gentleman.”
He left without glancing at her again, and as he closed the door behind him he did not hear her say, “It’s not because I don’t want you … I do. But I know you’re the kind of man who can’t help but break a woman’s heart.”
This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously
JUST REWARDS
Copyright © 2006 by Beaji Enterprises, Inc.
Excerpt from The Ravenscar Dynasty copyright © 2006 by Beaji Enterprises, Inc.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews. For information address St. Martin’s Press, 175 Fifth Avenue, New York, N.Y. 10010.
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St. Martin’s Paperbacks are published by St. Martin’s Press, 175 Fifth Avenue, New York, NY 10010.
eISBN 9781429901840
First eBook Edition : April 2011
St. Martin’s Press hardcover edition / January 2006
St. Martin’s Paperbacks edition / October 2006